Hearse
by CrushedSummer
Summary: An old folk tale regarding a violet-eyed spirit and a pink-haired girl, her beloved, whom she haunts.
1. April

**A/N: This is the brief prologue and first of several chapters to a story I had hinted at some time ago. The concept was to write something in the style of a Nordic folk tale. It was also loosely inspired by the changes in Homura and Madoka's relationship over the course of Rebellion.**

* * *

"If memory serves," she said, with the distinctive sidelong glance of someone trying hard to remember, "it went something like this:"

* * *

A gentle rain began to fall on the funeral procession; the raven-haired girl watched from the side of the road, reflecting on how strange it was that it was dedicated to her.

Much of the village had traveled through the woods to their cottage, coffin in tow, to show their solicitude, and to help her rose-eyed partner with the mortal remains. Strangely, she had yet to been seen, even as the procession wound through the trees.

The violet-eyed girl marched in step with them, and passed through the crowd as surely as the breeze, drawing not notice, but only complaints of "a chill wind". Her voice fell on deaf ears, no matter its distress. Even as she drew ahead of them, the sea of gazes pierced through her completely and without pause.

She moved forward, down the path to the lakeside mausoleum, where she watched the mourners approach in equally mournful contemplation.

Was she not entitled to the afterlife? To a happy dream?

How long would she languish here?

They placed the casket down before the great stone doors, then lined up in two rows before it. Each pair came forward in unison, placing their hands on it, perhaps offering their prayers or condolences to the wind before filing back down the path towards the village. A thought began to take hold in her mind as she watched the dreary proceedings: she had heard in countless stories and legends that those spirits consigned to the physical world were held by dissatisfaction.

Once the last of the crowd had paid their respects, they parted and stared back in into the woods from whence they came, allowing in a single new arrival.

In that moment, she knew the stories to be true.

With eyes like pieces of rose quartz, silken hair and rose petal lips, truly, her beloved was the very image of beauty even when swathed in sorrow such as she was. To this girl was fastened the chain of regret which kept the spirit bound to Earth. She came slowly, with face seemingly indifferent and hands clasped against her chest. In them she held an ebony token, a necklace with volcanic glass, which the raven haired girl had given her the day they left to begin their lives together. This she slipped beneath the lid of the simple coffin, and stood in reflection.

The violet eyed girl fondly remembered both the gift and the day. The local minister had claimed it wasn't within his power to wed two women, but their spirits were hardly dampened. Her beloved's good standing within the village had averted much of the scorn that would have befallen them, and no one objected to them refurbishing the neglected hunters' lodge within the forest.

As they took the first tentative steps into their new home, she had presented her sprightly partner with the necklace and proclaimed, "By your side, I'll remain forevermore." They had embraced then, but now she found her arms empty; her intangible body couldn't wipe away even one of the girl's tears as she broke down.

For a time they remained side-by-side, until an older man came to the front and placed his hand upon the pink haired girl's shoulder.

"Miss, I believe the time has come to lay her to rest," he said, eyes downcast.

So she stood aside and allowed him, alongside a few of the other men, to open the stone doors, and to gently carry the coffin into the serene darkness.

And with that, it was over.

The villagers began to retreat back into the forest, with the man stopping only briefly to say, "Take as long as you need, but know that it shall be dark soon, and the mist grows thick."

Once the last of them were gone, the sky began to weep openly with her. Even as the sun set, she continued unabated.

The spirit remained at her side, numb with despair, until she observed an unsettling change. Drained of strength, the mourning girl collapsed against the stone doors.

Then she began to laugh.

She, laughing and weeping at once, cried to the stars, "Cruel poison of life, you've taken everything from me! Take me as well! Take me away!"

" _Take me away..._ " the violet eyed girl whispered. Had she the capacity, she would have whisked her beloved away then and there, but alas, she was a mere watcher. Instead she resolved to remain by the girl's side, even if it meant forestalling her own salvation, until she could alleviate their shared grief or reunite them.

Thankfully, the rose eyed girl tired herself by the time the moon was high; she stumbled to her feet amid the thick mist, rubbing her eyes. Then she turned and began walking back up the path, mud sucking at her heels as she went.

Watching her, the spirit was still in a daze, gutted with empathy and crushed beneath the enormity of her own situation. Sometime later, she finally caught herself still standing in the rain and ruminating. Her beloved had already left. She plunged into the waiting forest in pursuit.

And with the strangled light of the new moon, so began the first night of April.

* * *

 **More A/N: I have the whole thing drafted, so the updates should flow rather quickly. I'm looking forward to finally getting putting up a story after my long absence drafting new stuff, and I look forward to hearing your reactions. Anyway, I hope this intrigued and entertained you!**


	2. Familiar

The bleeding of the sunrise awoke her the next day, or rather, it merely roused her. She had kept a silent vigil outside the gate of her former home the previous night, not yet ready to face the pain of entering, but unwilling to leave the girl alone.

It had dawned on her, in a moment of horror as she listened to the wind, that she could no longer feel.

The expected chill was gone.

She had long since realized that her new body seemed to flow around physical objects, but to think that the very sense of touch itself had been robbed from her was crushing.

The cold, hard (or so she assumed) earth was to be her bed that night. Soothing firelight came from the lodge, and she tried to relive the warmth and comfort it had once given her.

Hours had passed outside closed eyelids without even the least tiredness descending upon her. Sleep refused to take hold even when her mind went utterly numb.

And then she realized that she couldn't. She had no body which warranted rest any longer.

Another brittle ache to carry in her bosom, she supposed.

Instead she had entered a sort of trance, staring at the glow until dawn. It was with languid pace that her partner emerged to the morning's petrichor, blinking in the light. Before, she had been one to revel in the beauty of nature and embrace each day; now she left home with hollow indifference. Her eyes were dull, and she wandered without thought for purpose, much to the concern of the trailing spirit.

She followed close behind as the girl drifted back into the forest without even raising her head.

Above, the dense canopy scattered the remnants of the night's downpour, each glittering as they fell through shafts of penetrating sunlight. Ever somber, the forest had been a quiet one from the day they had started living within it, but now not even distant snippets of birdsong interrupted the mutual brooding of the separated pair.

The path brought them back to the mausoleum.

It was almost as if the forest sought to provide a measure of privacy, the way it wrapped around the small field. Above, the first congregating clouds threatened another day of rain to come. The girl preceded them once again, a quiet sob racking her as she leaned against the stone doors.

"Our home is too cold for one," she murmured, partially to herself, and partially to the doors between labored breaths.

For the first time since she found herself outside her body, the amethyst-eyed girl felt something nearing warmth. She approached the mourner and approximated an embrace as best she could, whispering the familiar words into the girl's ear once again, "By your side, I'll remain forevermore."

They remained in that position for a time, and gradually the girl's tears dried once more. It wounded the spirit to see her beloved in such a state, yet she couldn't help but be touched by the sorrow. Moreover, deep down, she felt a most minute part of herself become sated knowing that she was being mourned.

They returned to the lodge. The spirit kept watch once more, and the girl did not leave again until the next day.

Days passed without a lapse in this pattern. It seemed she wanted to remain away from home, where the painful memories resided, as much as possible. Each day would take her out for long hours, doing anything at all. The village's crops needed continuous tending, though the men often turned her away. She had long since begun to feel estranged from the women and their idle chatter.

In the end, she found more comfort on her own.

* * *

Another day spent in the forest.

The violet eyed girl followed closely as they traced familiar paths and old memories. A ghost of a smile graced her lips to relive those scenes. Once upon a time, there, off the path, the spritely girl had been teaching her which of the local flora were edible.

"...Not those berries, however," she stated matter-of-fairly "try to consumer them, and you will be left as blue as the juices contained therein."

Then her serious expression melted away as she poked the tip of the the taller girl's nose.

"And that wouldn't do at all, now would it?"

To the other side was the old maple the two of them had climbed together in an attempt to conquer their mutual fear of heights.

And over here stood an oak that another fond memory was buried beside. The path split around it, and she could still remember the warmth from the rose eyed girl when they had sat together, trying to remain still enough to feed the squirrels and chipmunks.

Eventually, the two of them retired for the night.

Another day spent by the lake followed.

A semicircular clearing pressing against the body of water was a short walk from their home, and from it, one could look across the curve of the shore and see the mausoleum in its own clearing.

The girl was sitting on the narrow strip of coarse sand which bound up the water, letting it lap at her feet.

She fell back, arms spread wide and let the sun kiss her. The inclement weather had finally relented; strangely enough, however, the mist refused to be dispelled and still clung faintly to the area.

But that was of no concern to her as she lay there. Indeed, between the warmth of the sun, the sounds of wind and water, and the feeling of grains running through her fingers, she felt something approaching peace. The light frolicked and bounded about the glistening waves while the trees, given voice by the wind, sang to her with their leaves.

She nearly succumbed to their lullaby as she stared at the water through half-lidded eyes.

This place, too, held fond memories she had forged with her dearly departed.

Ordinarily, the raven haired girl was quite reserved, even standoffish, but that night she had spoken animatedly from her knowledge of myth and folklore.

The pair had sat on the shore, enraptured by the night and silent water. It was at times like these that the rose eyed girl would ask to hear a story, which her companion would deliver with the practiced ease of someone old far beyond her years.

"It has been said that the veil between the worlds of spirit and of men grows thin when the moon hangs high," she had explained in a voice like velvet. "And therefore, a spirit may, if provoked into extreme effort, pierce this veil and render itself unto our world. Though few are by nature malicious, they generally covet to once more feel earthly comforts, and may resort to such practices as possession to feel them."

Fearing that she may have unsettled the other girl, she quickly amended, "Of course most lack to strength to accomplish such a feat without using trickery."

As she spoke, she had quietly begun sifting through the sand and collecting the largest pebbles in her hands.

"Such weakness leads the spirit to pursue a bevy of ways of communicating. One desirous of contact may commit an act complex as meeting a mortal in dream, or," she cast her handful of stones into the lake, "simple as greeting them with ripples on otherwise tranquil waters."

A few moments had passed in silence while the pink haired girl reveled in the information revealed to her, and her companion fretted that she may have seemed rather too earnest and made a fool of herself.

"S-should you believe in such things, of course," she muttered, masking her embarrassment over the course of the sentence.

But the smaller girl had just laughed, and before long, they were trading stories once again. The sun that day had risen to find them asleep in the sand, one with her warm grin, and the other with her small, but potently satisfied smile.

The spirit looked down on her beloved, who lay in the same place as she had been on that night, but now alone.

It was a strange sensation, to see her almost happy. Of course the violet eyed girl was gladdened, yet at the same time, she couldn't manage to evade the feeling of-

Jealousy?

The other girl wasn't trapped in this numb purgatory like she was. She had closure, bitter as it was.

Oh, what the violet eyed girl wouldn't have given to once more lay down in the sand, to feel its warmth and the waves lapping at her feet.

But so long as she had her beloved, she told herself, she would be able to endure.

* * *

 **A/N: I remember that it was around the writing of this chapter that the process seriously began to slow, since I also started a short horror story which took my attention away. Anyway, even writing about the happy backstory was a little depressing here in light of the characters' present situation.**

 **I think I'll be updating a little faster from here on out. Thanks for reading, I hope you continue to enjoy it!**


	3. Window

Their routine remained unbroken as the days grew longer; trips to the town, rests by the lake, journeys to the forest and lastly, visits to the mausoleum, where weeping had given way to solemn mourning. The old lodge remained vacant for as much as the rose haired girl could afford to be out. Still, each night, the spirit would wait outside and try to meditate.

Eventually the forest-dwelling girl learned to smile again; she couldn't quite place when, but one day she simply noticed that the bitterness of bittersweet memories had faded. So she brought that smile to the summer harvest in the village, and worked with the energy of ten men.

And each day while she worked, the spirit watched over her as she reintegrated into the community little by little.

As they drifted apart, little by little.

It was as sweet to watch the girl smile again as it was bitter to know that her thoughts were, at times, entirely free of her former love. She was still a proper resident of this world, to live and to live for. The violet eyed ghost on the other hand, could not break free of her chains.

Which made it all the more painful when their routine finally began to change.

One day the sprightly girl spent extra time in the village, another, she was long distracted skipping stones on the lake, on a third, she couldn't resist feeding the deer in the forest.

And the mausoleum was slowly left cold.

What was going on behind those eyes? The spirit wondered. She could only watch, and she was not spoken of.

Had she been forgotten?

Did the girl's love for her finally fade?

Soon the girl stopped avoiding the lodge so much, and before long it was her comfortable home once again.

And the spirit couldn't bear to stay away much longer.

* * *

It was a dreary, rainy day when the man from the village came.

The spirit had found herself too sick with longing to properly meditate through the night as of late, so when her beloved did not leave the house, she knew it was time to move forward.

A jaded sunrise was staining the dark clouds crimson when the girl answered the call at the gate, allowing the man first into the property, and then into her home.

This time, the spirit pursued.

She glided up the rain-slick path towards the lodge. It was with a hint of bitter irony that she noted the gates to her own home were closed on her. But she wouldn't be stopped; she could feel her body flowing around the bars as she drove onward.

For far longer than she had intended, she simply stared at the door.

She was burning with determination, so surely she was ready by-

No, she mentally sighed to herself, she wasn't.

A mere impulse wasn't enough to steel her for the aching nostalgia she knew would come once she returned. Thus, she circled around to peer into the dining room's window.

There, she found her beloved staring out in return.

The girl blinked slowly as she stared with a marked consternation, eyes fixed on some point on the horizon, which, if the spirit were desperate enough, could almost be confused for her intangible self. But the rose haired girl turned away and returned to the table where the stranger sat as the spirit drew closer.

"...As I was saying," he could be faintly heard through the window, "It is, we believe, a most prudent time for your rejoining of the village. We are few in number, and would soon scatter to the winds should few children be born. So, as you have mourned that _woman_ , I pray you: return to us and partake in a _proper_ marriage and in a _real_ family."

He emphasized each word critically.

The subject of his proposition stared at her hands upon the table.

On one hand, she couldn't put off fully returning to the community forever. It was very much expected that she fulfill her "God given" potential to raise a family, and she wouldn't be able to survive alone without the rest of the village should she alienate them. And as much as she desired to mourn, was it not best to move on? One could not spend all their days in remembrance, and even if she was forced into a marriage she had no interest in, she was virtually assured good treatment by her family and reputation. Surely it wouldn't be so bad.

Yet-

An equal part of her was repulsed by the idea of entrapment in a loveless marriage after her previous passions. Her heart had long since been given away.

She couldn't yet decide. It seemed she would have to attempt to appease and delay him; she began to choose her words, and carefully.

Outside, the spirit continued to spectate.

" _Why does she not turn him away? Why does she hesitate?_ "

The longer she watched the girl sit and contemplate, seriously contemplate sullying her memory like such, the more upset she became.

What was their bond worth, that it would be cast aside over some silly request?

Then the girl stood, "Your offer sways and honours me deeply, yet I would also desire more time to consider, if I may."

" _She is swayed?_ "

The man agreed and left in short order, leaving only the pair, and the distance between them. A moment passed and the girl went to stand and look out the window once more, unknowingly bringing them together.

The spirit was wounded. It seemed that she had finally been left behind by the world she could no longer participate in. Desperately, she pressed herself against the glass as the girl leaned in, crying her name out.

But she could make no sound.

No matter how she strained, no matter how she fought, nothing was heard and the girl looked through her as she tried to lock eyes. Close as they were, they were insurmountably separated. What remained for her in this world? She was robbed of sensation, of her body, of her home, even of her love. The very thought of such perdition would have reduced her to tears, were she capable; in a flash of lightning, the rain intensified and she allowed it to serve as her surrogate.

Had her beloved's request to be taken away been a mere impassioned moment, that it was this quickly forgotten?

Her mind rebelled against the very thought of it, yet she couldn't ignore entirely what she had just witnessed, nor the sensation of her heart draining. A bond so strong couldn't be broken so easily; perhaps their feelings had never been in equal intensity, and she was just now coming to realize it. For the first time, she found her single minded ambition torn. She was distraught, but her love, and her desire to reunite them were too strong, and rooted too deeply to be dispelled entirely.

The spirit watched through the glass, burning with hurt and passion, until the pensive girl finally retired to her quarters.

 _"When my word is not but thought, we shall meet once more."_

* * *

 **A/N: Now we're really getting going here. If you've been following my other stories, the dark direction probably won't surprise you.**

 **I don't really have anything interesting to say about the writing of this chapter, so I'll just cap this off and hope you're liking it!**


	4. Presence

She was now quite accustomed to the bitter yearning coiling in her her bosom.

Where before she had followed and watched, she now held fast to the rose-haired girl as much as possible, scrutinizing and wondering how, and why she had been used as she was. The impulses to embrace, and to scream her frustrations at the girl were nearly equal as the spirit suspended herself above the girl's prone form on the shore.

A turning point had been reached: the summer solstice was long over, and she had taken to spending more time outside before summer finally faded. It was well enough for the spirit; for her, it meant for opportunity to stay near.

In moments like this it meant projecting her will at the girl as hard as she could muster; this was as close as she could get to whispering to her. She had seemed uneasy as of late, dark crescents hung below her eyes and the bounce to her step had diminished somewhat.

And perhaps it was just cognitive bias, but it seemed to the spirit that the girl was stopping and looking through her more often.

* * *

She opened her eyes.

An early night had begun to fall while she was asleep, but she had business the village. Gathering herself and shaking loose the sand, she set out.

The path into the forest was shrouded in the mist, which seemed to have thickened of late. Looking down it, she could see that while scant daylight remained, there was a distinct border into shadow at the woods' edge. Suddenly, she was apprehensive, the remaining unease from her fitful sleep blossoming into something deeper. But this, she told herself, was mere paranoia.

And so, into the dark she plunged.

These were trails she had walked countless times; she could follow them with her eyes closed, had even done so for fun, once.

So why now did the trees loom menacingly? Why now did the shadows whisper conspiratorially? Why now did the very road bend its will against her?

She found herself doubling back, turned around and stumbling blindly countless times. As the night grew deeper, her discomfort only swelled into fear.

What if the wolves could sense her panic, she wondered. If she ran far, far off the path, would she stand any chance of finding her way back when morning finally came?

She was running now, tripping over roots, snatching at every sound and breathing raggedly. Yes, this tree seemed familiar, it should have served as a landmark. Yet it now seemed that she was running into so-called landmarks constantly, and they served only to give false hope and turn her once more.

A twig cracked in the shadows and she whirled, only to find black space.

The wind cackled and stirred up the canopy, but there was no light left to allow in.

Why now did she feel a negative presence clinging to her?

Another root grasped her as she ran and sent her spiraling into the dirt.

But then-

The faintest glow.

The girl stumbled out of the woods and found herself back before her home. Exhausted and sore, she retired for the night.

Outside, the spirit watched, confused about the fit of hysteria the girl had been gripped by in the forest. She had discovered the difficulty of moving quickly in her new form, and had nearly lost the girl in the shadows. Perhaps this was a symptom of what was troubling her, and itself quite troubling to observe.

The spirit was wracked with bitter guilt at a thought crossing her mind. Indeed, she was worried for the girl but, if in some accident she were killed, would they not be reunited?

It was a disgusting idea; the raven haired girl would have shuddered to think it if she still could.

* * *

Crepuscular rays made their presence known the next morning, and sought to pierce through the lingering gloom. Today, again, the girl desired to go to town, and this time she had the day on her side. With the spirit clinging to her closely, she passed the tree line, but not without a slight apprehension.

Indeed, these woods were still slightly less familiar to her than she remembered, or would have liked, but they were traversable now. She breathed the morning air, noted the dew glimmering in the morning light and the birdsong skipping atop the leaves. Yet, the dark cloud over her refused to dissipate entirely. The negative feeling which had been clinging to he as of late, and the images of the previous night still danced about her as she tried to proceed.

The moderate-length trip was spent in silence, as though she was afraid to draw any attention to herself.

Most of the village was quiet when she arrived; much of its population was out working. The church, however, remained staffed in all but the most dire circumstances. This was where the girl intended to go. The thick, oaken doors stood open, ready for any who desired divine wisdom, or perhaps simply logical ideas delivered from the mouth of a pastor. One such man served her that morning.

"I, as of late, have been the victim of fraught and unsettling dreams." She looked about, as though afraid of being caught while the pastor urged her on, "And to my great dismay, each of them, in part or whole, featured...her."

"Very troubling," he agreed, "have you more to add?"

"I feel as though some ill presence hangs over my head."

Utterly dumbfounded, the spirit listened on, hoping against hope that the thoughts springing to her mind were true. Had she somehow affected the girl? Was the girl gaining an iota of awareness that they had never truly separated?

Silhouetted in stained light from stained glass, she bowed her head as he offered a protective blessing, "...and may the light forever touch your path."

Though a darker part of the raven haired girl was satisfied by the punishment being inflicted by the contact, it was quickly quashed by an overwhelming desire to push this avenue and finally establish communication. Surely, she thought, the harrowed girl's stress would be eased if she knew that "the presence" was none other than her former love.

All that remained was figuring out how to do it.

* * *

The presence had grown heavier as of late.

In her dreams she had stood and watched the tranquil waters below a lightless night sky, hearing the voice whisper to her. It was still too weak to understand, but it was still unshakably within the edges of her hearing.

This night was different.

The whispering had grown sharper, trying to reach her, yet was still too far away. Fog was rolling across the surface and she swore she could see, silhouetted against it, a figure rising from the waters in the distant center of the lake. It turned and took one step closer, and just as her breath caught in her throat, she woke up. The girl shivered; it was growing too cold to sleep out here in the sand.

The dream had denoted a shift of some sort, and she wasn't about to wait for the presence to make the first move.

It was time, she decided, to take action. The implements provided by the minister lay upon the dinner table, and she considered how best to use them as she walked back. Beneath her, even the short path back writhed with a serpentine bent and the sky threatened a storm that never seemed to actually arrive. She threw open the door to find an eerie calm.

The candles were burning low, their light glinting off the polished glass and metal of the blessed items. A cross, made of cold iron, said to ward off demons, a bottle of holy water and aspergillum, and finally, sacred incense. With these, she would drive out the presence!

She hung the cross above the front door; a ward to protect her home. Smoke filled the room in step with the aspergillum and its holy water. Taking a moment to prepare herself, she took a burning stick in one hand and the the aspergillum in the other.

"Leave this home!" she cried, spraying the front door with holy water, "And leave me be!"

And so, slowly, she trawled through the lodge, anointing each room and allowing the smoke to scour all the forgotten corners and rafters. Finally, drained and reassured she collapsed into bed.

But the dreams didn't stop.

This time the figure in the lake stayed, staring at her, she assumed. Chill winds agitated the surface of the lake and drew it up in waves, while the whispers changed. They started moving; no longer did they surround her incomprehensibly, coming from nowhere and everywhere. Now they converged on the figure.

It spoke to her in its many voices; it said her name.

* * *

 **A/N: You can probably see the direction this is going. I think I might put in the grand finale in the next chapter, but rest assured, there's still more build up to come.**

 **This was a really interesting chapter to write, and not just because I had to look up what an aspergillum is. The first half was a breeze, yet somehow the second was a monumental slog to finish.**


	5. Credence

The spirit hung over the bed, focused intensely on projecting her will on the sleeping girl. As confused and frustrated as she was by the attempt to cast her out, she told herself that her beloved knew not to whom she did it.

It was slowly beginning to dawn on the spirit that she had finally come back inside. She gave a final, mental push and turned away. This room, the one they had once shared, was almost exactly as she remembered it. She was finally home. The familiar walls beckoned, and long into the night she simply wandered and remembered.

Here, the bittersweet memories were the strongest.

This hearth had seen them curled before it many a night, laughing the winter away. They had broken bread together at this table each day, as thankful to be able to as they were to have each other. The spirit sighed silently. She supposed her inability to let go of days past was part of why she was still here. How was she to let go when her regret grew only stronger? If she were still here, that vulgar man from the village would never have pushed her to return. If she could just embrace the girl, then she wouldn't be anointing their home to try and drive her out.

But for a brief, serene moment, all those doubts fell mute as the raven haired girl returned to the bedroom. Her beloved was sound asleep for once; sleeping face exactly as the spirit remembered it. The girl had left her half of the bed neat and empty, as though expecting her return.

The spirit would have wept for joy and longing, could she.

She could bear the weight no longer; a plan was beginning to form in her mind, and she would spare no time in enacting it.

Tomorrow, she would establish contact.

* * *

It could be called autumn, if one became cognizant of the first changes. Without her noticing, the occasional chill in the air had become a constant companion, and if she looked closely, the first orange leaves were starting to dot the foliage. A gale presented one such leaf to her and deposited it in her washtub. She had returned from the village near sunset and aimed to finish washing her clothes before it grew dark. The weather, however, conspired against her; pregnant clouds loomed overhead and darkened the sky prematurely.

The girl rolled up her sleeves and worked with renewed vigor. While it would be nice for the rain to rinse all the articles for her, she would rather not be caught in it herself.

Her hands were growing extremely cold from the icy winding raking over her wet skin. It was another motivator, she supposed. More dresses were finished, but now faint orange was appearing in the clouds.

Next, undergarments were done and the wind was finally settling as the day wound down. A filthy cloak left her below the dim crimson of an obscured sunset. It was the final article, but it wasn't hers. Now she was almost loathe to wash it. With the raven haired girl's passing, perhaps she had felt it wasn't her place, or maybe she simply didn't want to dredge up painful memories.

A drop fell in her tub and disrupted the reflection as she moved to put it in. She sighed, having hoped the rain would hold off just a little longer. The expected pattering didn't come, however. Another ripple disturbed the surface a moment later, and again she was certain the rain hadn't started. Slowly, the water became increasingly agitated, until the ripples were constant.

The girl stared, extremely uneasy.

This was...contact.

"No!" she cried, "leave me be!"

In an explosion of action, she kicked over the tub, scrambling backwards and gathered her things before fleeing back towards home.

The spirit cried out silently, hopes dashed. She was on the girl immediately, pouring over her skin as she ran, anger only fueled by the girl's panic. Why couldn't she see that she meant no harm? Why did she have to fight so hard to keep them apart?

With twice the vigor of before, the girl closed herself in the lodge and began all manner of cleansing rituals. The incense was lit, the holy water spread and whispered prayers filled the air. But the violet eyed girl did not relent. She floated, watching with derision the girl's attempts to cast out, unbeknownst to her, her own beloved. When she finally collapsed into bed, it was time to strike.

With a force thus far unknown even to herself, the spirit forced her will onto the sleeping girl.

This time, she began to see.

Another set of senses was superimposed over her own; she was rising up from the center of the lake on a black night. At the shore stood another of the rose eyed girl, staring back at her.

The spirit took one step across the surface. Dull surprise overtook her for a moment; she had a body in this-

What was this? Was she making contact in dream? But she could hardly focus on that when the rest of her mind demanded she reach the shore. One foot in front of the other, unsteady at first, especially as she was trying not to focus on the very real sleeping figure in another layer of her vision.

The sky was empty, but they both felt the storm approaching. Shrill winds agitated the waters and pulled at their hair.

The raven haired girl watched the other on the shore retreat into herself as she slowly drew them closer together. It hurt to see her so frightened, as estranged as they had become from one another. By the time she was standing where water met sand, the rose eyed girl had retreated from the shore and was collapsed to the ground, gaping at her.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the spirit opened her mouth to speak.

"What frightens you so? Forgotten me so soon?"

* * *

She was back in her bed, blinking the nightmare from her eyes. This, she felt, had been some sort of culmination of all the previous ones; this sinister presence was using the shape of her late love to trick her. The foul illusion had still felt as real as her cold sweat, and she could no longer restrain her fear over the matter.

The rose haired girl sprang up and began to stalk through the home.

She was trembling with emotion and exertion, crying out desperately, "Cease this torment! Leave me be! Return to the damned place from which you came!"

This time she had no holy implements to assist her, but she proceeded with twice the vigor and rage.

"Hideous demon! Unholy wraith, I cast you out! Away!"

Deep into the night she continued, gasping and drenched with sweat from fear and exertion, until finally she collapsed to the dinner table. This, she hoped, would finally be enough. It had to be enough.

Unable and unwilling to go back to sleep, she watched the candles burn down and counted the minutes. Before long, before the tension had even left the air, she watched as all of them were suffocated.

The scant moonlight painted a disturbing picture.

* * *

" _Demon? Wraith?_ "

The spirit watched the girl bolt up from her seat as the candles snuffed themselves at once.

Her heart was no longer empty, it was swelling with burning acrimony. For the dedication of her life and afterlife to this girl, she was to be repaid with this abuse? Her mind was tearing itself apart in a fit of madness. The depth of this betrayal was too great to fathom, yet she couldn't scream, she couldn't cry, couldn't even clench her fists. It was akin to being imprisoned in a most abhorrent dungeon; she was stripped all of all sensation, unable to free herself from the shackles and attain catharsis.

The rose haired girl, whom she had once called her beloved, was rigid as she slowly looked about the room. Highlighted by the moon's faint rays, the unnaturally long-lived fog was slithering in beneath the door.

It no longer mattered to the spirit if expressing herself was impossible, she had to. Perhaps the shackles could be loosened, if only slightly.

Soon the window, and even the minutest cracks in the walls were being used as an ingress by the mist.

She pushed with all her being, with every ounce of her will, trying to scream. No voice came, but even the moonlight was rapidly suffocated. As the sight became clearer to her, the pink haired girl's caution fell away to reveal burning panic; in an instant she was sprinting back in search of the holy implements. She disappeared through the doorway to their bedroom. Fear froze her just inside the threshold as she returned.

An unsettling quiet descended over the room as the last of the fog forged in, coalescing with that already inside. They stayed frozen for a time hardly perceived by either, both entirely too focused on the growing tension. Eventually, the girl's ragged breath grew stronger, and she, with body taut, slowly chanced a look out.

Amazement joined the tempest of emotion in the violet eyed watcher. The girl was staring not out, but at the center of the room where the fog was converging; for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she looked not through the spirit, but at her. She was at a loss for thought; was this not what she had toiled over, agonized over since the end of her mortal life?

Then the girl whom she had called her beloved recoiled in horror.

"No, no!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet. The spirit moved to reach out, but the girl had already been pushed past the point of panic, and was tearing straight past her, nearly tearing down the door in her frenzy to escape.

When it slammed behind her, the raven haired girl thought that, even if for the briefest moment, she felt cold for the first time.

Even as the night waned, she stayed exactly as she was. Slowly, the fog dispersed, and slowly, she felt her heart draining of its accumulated acrimony. Now that the thrill of the anger and release of the frustration had passed, all she could see was the rose eyed girl's terrified expression. Was this the sort of person she had been in life? Would she have exploded like this, torn apart home and relationship alike? It was clear to her now the toll that this unnatural life had taken on her.

How strange, mere months ago all that had mattered to her was seeing her beloved's smile. Now, it had taken all of this to remind her.

* * *

Nearly a week passed before the cautious return of the pink haired girl. The spirit watched, drained, from beyond the window. For hours at a time the girl would wander it, looking hollow, pondering how the feeling of welcomeness it had once given her had vanished. Whenever she was free, she found herself coming back.

The first snowflakes began to fall on such a day.

And on that day, the amethyst eyed girl could bear it no longer. To even think she had felt betrayed when she also took the very home from her beloved brought a deep shame upon her.

" _I've only done her harm, all this time..."_

Slowly, she turned and moved away from the window.

There was a certain peace in resigning herself to be trapped beyond the looking glass.

She would let her beloved live in peace, even if it meant being unsatisfied, bound to Earth.

The spirit plunged into the forest.

* * *

Spring was near; the spirit watched a tree which had first sprouted in her final days redecorate itself in green. The villagers were taking advantage of the new found warmth to wander of even the deepest parts of the woods, where she chose to isolate herself.

" _Hello._ "

She paid them no mind.

" _It's been far too long._ "

The voice sounded strange. It almost came from within rather than without.

Then it said her name.

They had all but forgotten her name in the village, only the eldest knew the girl that had passed away young. She turned.

Her beloved was there, as young as in her fondest memories.

She would have cried, could she.

" _A grave illness took me, but I was not unprepared to leave._ "

She paused to offer the faintest smile, before continuing, " _Long have I searched for you, and little did I expect you to have remained so close._ "

" _You should not have!_ " the raven haired girl cried, " _I was the demon! I haunted you, I was your tormentor!_ "

" _But that is not how you wanted it to be, was it? I've had a lifetime to ponder this,_ " she paused for a moment, thinking back, " _more, in fact. I now comprehend what you had experienced. You were forced to watch, were you not? You were deprived of everything, were you not?_ "

" _I-_ "

" _What you did was not just, do not mistake it. Yet, I understand why you did it. I will always offer you a second chance, it is simply upon you to accept it._ "

And the older spirit simply stared, dumbfounded and guilty and shocked and ecstatic at once.

" _Now then,_ " the rose eyed girl said, extending an incorporeal hand, " _shall we leave?_ "

She accepted her beloved's hand, feeling the touch for the first time in longer than she could remember.

* * *

"The end. So, did-" she stopped herself. " _Oh,_ " she thought, " _she's already asleep._ "

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sure you'll be wondering, so I'll reveal it here since I didn't think there was a way to mention this in-story without making it really jarring. This story is the "folk tale" told by Mami to Kyouko in chapter 3 of my other story, Sunset. The original draft of the first chapter of Hearse used to be inside Sunset, but I thought would be too long and out of place to insert mid-chapter; thus, I resolved to turn it into its own little fic.**

 **Also I have the feeling that some of you got the impression that this would be an epic of a fic. Sorry if I accidentally misled you! I hope that you enjoyed this regardless.**


End file.
